


Closing the Distance

by momothesweet



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beaches, Biting, F/M, Hair-pulling, Implied Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Making Out, Non-Graphic Smut, Reader-Insert, Size Difference, Summer, all the other relationships are ambiguous, because beach sex is messy, motel sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothesweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A road trip to the beach with your friends is the perfect opportunity to finally profess your feelings for Armin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for [Lark](http://thelyinglark.tumblr.com/)! :D
> 
> Please note that the reader is taller and bigger than Armin, per their request. This is also rated M instead of E because the language is much more tame than other works of mine. You still get the sexy content, though. I promise you guys that ^^
> 
> Now, let's enjoy the happy happy fun times here, in which everyone is ALIVE AND HAPPY AND LOVING AND CAREFREE AND DID I MENTION ALIVE

Your teenage years have been long gone, but that doesn’t mean you and your friends can’t continue acting like them.

Hell, the lines blur once everyone hits their late teens and early twenties. Mistakes are made and the choice between having another drink or texting that guy you like is the hardest choice you’ve ever encountered so far in your short life. At some point, you’re going to have to grow up. Life will smack you in the face in the rudest of ways and you’ll be set with even more difficult decisions that don’t involve alcohol or people you’re attracted to. And trips like these will come few and far in between.

For now, though, nobody, including you, can give a single fuck. You’re more than happy that Marco managed to borrow his dad’s top-down convertible for this trip because it’s you who’s in the backseat and feeling the wind in your hair as he’s going about twenty miles over the interstate speed limit. Riding shotgun is Marco’s boyfriend, turning up the obnoxious rock music to piss off the older folks they whizz by. You can barely hear it, anyway, since you’re paying much more attention to the giant brown and green hills, along with blue skies without a single cloud to blemish it.

Speaking of skies, if they were any bluer, they’d be the color of Armin Arlert’s eyes. If you could, you’d definitely stare at him, instead. Unfortunately, there are three problems that keep you from doing so.

One: he’s wearing sunglasses. At least you can admire him in wayfarers. They look good on him. Not like the “wayfarers look good on everybody” type of good, but the “he looks so cool and you can’t handle it” type of good.

Two: he’s looking in the opposite direction, probably doing the same thing you’ve been doing for the last few hours. Admiring the scenery is nice, but  _ god dammit _ you’d like to admire him.

Three: you’ve got the biggest fucking crush on him and you don’t want to be creepy about it because he’s been your friend since high school. Jean in the passenger seat (along with literally every other friend you have) has already noticed you trying to get his attention since the entire gang planned this road trip, which is probably why they all decided to have you sit with him in Marco’s dad’s car. Everyone else is packed in Reiner’s minivan, either arguing about who ate all the potato chips or who chose the shitty playlist. 

Besides the blaring guitars and crashing cymbals, the top-down is nice and comfortable, save for the flips your stomach is doing every time Armin turns in your direction. Every time you try to open up and start a conversation, it’s usually just a “hey are you doing alright?” to which he responds with a curt nod. Either that or Jean starts talking up a storm and you want to smack him upside the head for unintentionally interrupting a critical interaction. Armin’s laugh is infectious and you could die happy if you were to be exposed to it all the time.

Don’t worry. You’ve got a lot more time to talk to him once Marco speeds up even more per Jean’s pleas and reaches the beach even faster.

 

The four of you get to the beach about ten minutes earlier than the rest of the squad. Thanks to Marco’s driving and, according to Jean, the power of rock and roll, you all get to spend a little extra time with your toes in the sand and the ocean breeze tickling your skin. You’re ready to join Jean and Marco already tiptoeing on the tide, but you’re not about to third-wheel whatever relationship-y goodness they’re enjoying by themselves. Instead, you take a step closer to stand next to Armin, looking out into the ocean. The sun’s not quite ready to set yet, but the sight is nonetheless breathtaking. 

Clouds have come to coat the sky as it gets later and you all get closer to the beach. It blankets the sky just right to complement the sun, shining down on the ocean to create a palette of grays and pinks and a hint of blue. One look at Armin and you can tell he’s enraptured in the scene, eyes wide as if he’s going to soak up its entirety. Your own breath is misplaced at his adoration. You’ll have to find it quickly because he blinks and shifts to glance at you.

“I—” you pause and scramble for something to say to him, “it’s beautiful, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes back on the ocean. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to see this. I’m so glad I get to do this with my friends.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “friends.”

_ But can we be more than that? _

Self-conscious thoughts are about to flood your head but the minivan pulls up next to the top-down. A swarm of more friends dive out of the car, either stretching or admiring the ocean right away. It seems they made a stop to the mini-mart, too, because Reiner’s holding two six-packs while drawing out a booming “yeah” at the ocean and Mikasa and Annie are starting to shove glass bottles into a cooler that had just been dumped with ice. Eren comes up to the both of you to pat your shoulders, grinning at the ocean.

“It’s gonna be a good night, you guys,” he tells you and Armin.

Given that it’s now your goal to go a little beyond the friend threshold with Armin, you damn well hope that it’s going to be a good night.

 

From there, the energy rises to capacity. Marco takes the liberty of starting a bonfire while Sasha and Connie pair their beers with s’mores. A drinking game ensues at some point, which leaves Mikasa undisturbed while Jean and Eren drunkenly yell at each other until they wander through the tide and crash in the sand. 

“You’re a wuss!” Eren slurs, stumbling over Mikasa and running into Bertholdt, who’s trying to be convinced by Reiner that the water feels just fine. 

“No,  _ you’re _ a wuss!” Jean spits back. He trips over nothing and Marco is there to break his fall, laying him gently in the sand. Thanks to him, Jean’s calmer, and shouting more slurred obscenities that are along the lines of “At least I have a hot boyfriend!”

Laughter and drinks spread around along with reminiscing the days when they didn’t have to pay thousands of dollars for school and they had to use fake IDs to buy alcohol. You yourself enjoy the comfort of your friends, drinking modestly because you don’t want to end up like Eren, who’s being carted away next to Jean and Marco. Everyone strategically sits around the fire so that you’re stuck next to Armin again, who’s also gladly contributing to the rambles of youth and rebellion. He might come off as nerdy to some, but around everyone here at the beach, he’s one of the best storytellers and definitely one of the sneakiest of the group. Naturally, you listen intently to his words, sipping your drink and smiling fondly.

“Reiner told me to do it!” he continues in regards to the blond beefcake cajoling him into getting an exam pushed back by a week. He’s currently kicking saltwater towards Annie and Bertholdt about twenty feet away. “All I had to do was explain that the material was too dense to understand in a short period of time. It only took me about five minutes to get her to say yes.”

“I still failed that exam,” Sasha says, ripping through her third s’more and licking chocolate bitterly off her face. “Thanks, though. You really saved a bunch of people’s asses.”

Armin laughs nervously and smiles. You have to take another drink and avert your eyes because he looks  _ so fucking cute _ when he does that. Your focus then goes to Connie, practically sitting on top of Sasha, groaning and downing his can of beer.

“Come on, Armin,” he rattles, “don’t you have a story for us that  _ doesn’t _ involve school? Not that that story wasn’t badass, but…”

“They want to know about how you swiped a bottle of Jack from your grandfather,” Marco calls a few feet away from the bonfire. Sitting comfortably in the sand, he’s got Jean under control, having him rest his head in his lap and petting him slowly while he mumbles drunken, incoherent words at the ocean.

Sasha and Connie smirk and squabble over getting the story out of him. Armin laughs again, blushing this time around while you have to down your drink because he’s even cuter and cooler and  _ this cannot be real _ . 

“I didn’t  _ steal _ it,” he tells the group. “He let me hold on to it so my parents wouldn’t know he had it. And then...I got curious and tried some.”

Whoops and cheers go around as if Armin had told an epic tale involving dragons and sword fighting. He smiles wider and drinks, then turns his attention towards you. A sharp tingle shoots down your spine, eyes widening some and reciprocating his smile so you don’t look so stupid. (You don’t look stupid, for the record).

“You were there when we all watched Jean do a backflip into the dumpster, right?”

You remember the day vividly—senior year of high school, a massive group of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds chanting “do it” as Jean stands on top of a portable school building and tosses his worn leather jacket to Marco. You were towards the back of the crowd, shaking your head at your friend’s antics. The bet with Eren that time around was something stupid, surely, and you can’t bring yourself to remember what the stakes were. However, you do remember Armin being there, not so much jumping in with the crowd but likely as interested as you were. Does Armin remember you being there?

You nod to answer him. “He and Eren did a lot of stupid stuff back in high school.”

Mikasa makes her way to the bonfire, unshaken even after several beers. She hears enough of what you say to agree with you amusedly while Eren, lying somewhere behind the group and coated in sand, moans an “I wasn’t  _ that _ stupid!”

The rest of the night goes on like this. You manage to talk to Armin a little bit more as you both look back on stupid high school days and stupid freshman year antics in college. Since neither of you is the same major, most of the classes you both take are different, so it’s pleasant to hear about some of his experiences in spite of everyone else trying to ironically move away from school talk. The sun goes down and everyone somehow, in their own way, revels in it, be it with shared kisses with a significant other or looking out in complete awe and wonder. Those hues of pink and gray suddenly transition to blue and black, darkening as it gets later and the bonfire starts to die down. The light that then comes into focus is white of the moon, shining down to reflect against the ocean and to hit everyone’s faces in such a perfect way.

Armin’s never looked so handsome.

 

There’s a motel right next to the beach. If they aren’t passed out or getting it on, your friends are continuing the party in a dingy room with cheap bedding and bad wallpaper. The party’s more scaled down, with fewer drinks and deeper talk in regards to life and what the future holds for all of them. Avoiding the heaviness of some of your friends’ buzzed but profound words, you make your way back outside. The sand is cooler in your toes as you walk. From a distance, you can see that someone’s relit the bonfire and looking out into the ocean. The closer you get, the more you notice that Armin has decided to deviate away from everyone, as well. The two of you, if he allows it, will be alone together.

Now’s your chance.

He looks up at you when you take a seat about a foot away from him. In spite of knowing Armin for a while, you keep your distance. By no means are you considered petite. Some little gremlin in your head leads you to believe that you tend to come off as intimidating and scary, and like hell you’re going to scare Armin. Maybe that’s why Armin’s never talked to you extensively; maybe that’s why no crush ever does. The thought starts to eat away at you again, perhaps because of the alcohol making your head become more vulnerable. Just when you think you’ve made a mistake sitting next to him, alone, you hear the sand shift beneath you and your name in a voice as gentle as the waves that nearly wash over your feet.

“I’m not as cool as everyone says,” he says. “I’ve liked you for a long time but I’ve never had the courage to say anything in high school.”

His words make your heart want to rip through your chest. Your eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. A dry throat accompanies your symptoms of utter shock and you can’t reply to him to tell him the same thing. Perfect timing, too, because  _ RIGHT NOW _ it’s your time to pour out the rest of your feelings and have those conversations you’ve been dreaming of. You don’t want to keep him hanging and the rest of your functioning body fights to get some moisture in your throat and sentences to your brain and mouth.

Then the only word that comes to your head though is a prolonged “fuck” because Armin continues, speaking more nervously.

“I’m sorry!” he blurts. “That was sudden of me. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I understand if you don’t feel the same way.”

“But I do,” you finally say, croaking. Your eyes flick in his direction so that you look back at him, those blue eyes sucking you in and encouraging you to say your part. “I’ve always felt the same way, too. And you  _ are _ cool. You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. And the cutest.”

You must have done something beforehand to please whoever lies in the heavens above because you’re blessed with the sight of Armin becoming flustered and affected by your confession. The bonfire close to you two helps you see the blush that dust his cheeks. Praise everything.

“Thanks,” he says. “You’re cute, too. Really cute. Like, I could look at you for hours!”

The ocean could wash you away and a siren could lead you to your death right now and you’ll die happy with those words ingrained in your head. 

 

Now that confessions are over and done with, everything else seems to unfold naturally. You close the distance between you and Armin, sitting with knees bumping and continuing to look out into the ocean as you both talk about all the missed opportunities to say something cool or flirty. It turns out that there were lots of times when you both could have said something, but didn’t in fear of rejection and humiliation and all those nasty feelings we all hate to feel. Crushes are better off as crushes instead of a crush that quite literally crushes your heart. Soft laughter and more excitable interjections fill the gap between you two. The longer the conversations go, the more and more you feel so lucky to have someone like you back in the exact same way. You feel your lips tingle and a lot more heat pooling in your stomach, too, because never have you wanted to kiss someone so much.

Armin looks like he feels the same way. You can never be sure, though. Yet those eyes and smile are looking a lot different than when you both were laughing it up with your friends a few hours ago. There’s something more...romantic, as cheesy as it sounds. Like he’s been saving that gaze just for you. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his, unsure of what to say.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You need to thank whoever’s in the heavens again, because once you nod and lean in to pucker up, bending slightly to accommodate for the height difference between you two, it’s all over. Fireworks and love songs aren’t needed to make this moment any better. Ocean waves and crackling fire blend into the ambiance, which you couldn’t give two shits about because Armin’s lips are so soft and plush you could kiss him all night. The way he holds your hands when you kiss back is endearing and so sweet you’ll get cavities on top of swollen lips. He takes his time, gets to know how comfortable and relaxed you are before he tries anything else.

Then he moves to kiss you deeper with parted lips and a tongue to easily coax you into opening up your mouth, as well. You’re no longer scared of snapping him like a twig or him freaking out over how big your hands are when you cup his face as your tongue meets his, tangling and exchanging the taste of each other. No breeze can cool down the warmth between you two. It only gets hotter when you feel teeth that aren’t your own start to dig into your lower lip. On top of that, slender fingers weave through your hair to give it the gentlest of tugs. You suddenly realize that Armin isn’t just a cool kid amongst your friends—he’s sexy as fuck.

You moan softly into the kiss after a short breath from when he bit your lip, moving your hands to wrap your arms around his neck while he continues to wake up a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. With each little tug of your hair and nip of your tongue and lip, something flows through your spine and turns up the heat between your legs. You want him more and more with each wet kiss, and when he pulls your hair a notch harder, you moan louder and pull away from him, breathing heavily.

Armin looks at you with wide, blown-out eyes, licking his lips like he’s still hungry for more. It takes a few more seconds for him to return to being sweet rather than spicy, his touch soft once again when his hand cradles your cheek. “I’m sorry—I got carried away! You’re a really good kisser and I kind of like messing with your hair because it’s so nice and soft—”

“Armin.” You giggle and lean in for a quick, quiet kiss. “I like it. I.. _.really _ like it.”

He blinks a few times, looking at you to confirm that you mean what you say. Of course you mean it.

He means it when he kisses you hard and pushes you down into the sand, too.

 

Though sex on the beach sounds fun, neither of you brought towels or extra clothing to help prevent sand from sliding into any orifice. You’re more than lucky that your roommate Mikasa decided to fall asleep next to a passed out Eren in another motel room. You’re luckier that you didn’t even notice that the room was empty because you couldn’t keep your hands off of Armin. Bouncing into the middle of the bed, Armin gladly crawls on top of you, moving his lips from your own to your jaw and to your neck, leaving little bite marks wherever he can. You’re going to have to cover those up tomorrow but you don’t care. 

Clothes begin to fly off as Armin continues his exploration of your body. Now that you’ve given him the okay to touch and kiss you however he likes, his hands roam every dip and curve of your frame, kissing every inch he can while you moan softly and roll your hips up for more friction. He might be the smaller one here, but by no means is his touch small or not impactful.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck. 

You can hardly come up with a “thank you” because he’s already got his mouth wrapped up in yours again while he kneads your chest, fingers brushing over all the right places to make you feel like you’re on fire. You don’t even have time to admire his body because your eyes roll back once one hand brushes between your legs, making you wetter than you could ever imagine. Another moan flows out of you, so organically and smooth that Armin joins in with you with a moan of his own. Your hands find his shoulders, holding him for purchase. It doesn’t last long, though, because your hands curl to dig your nails into him once he slips one finger inside you.

For this, he’s probably being courteous. You think he doesn’t want to rush your arousal; he wants to watch you moan some more, arch your back higher, say his name before he slips that second finger in. And when he does, all the while his thumb brushes over your clit, he restrains a cry of pain from how hard you’re pressing your nails into his shoulders. Too horny and needy to ask if he’s okay (that’ll come after the both of you do), you let out a broken “Please” to let him know that you’re more than ready for him. Additionally, your legs fall open wider, exposing yourself while he does the same for you.

After rolling a condom over his entire length, which you lick your lips to when you watch him do so, Armin lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly while he squeezes your hips and moans your name. You moan his name right back at him, the sensation of being filled consuming every muscle and nerve with sheer pleasure. He settles inside you for a moment, letting you revel in the feeling. A light tap of his ass gives him the signal to start moving, taking it slow to prevent any unwanted pain. You’re far from hurting right now; despite his teeth going back to nipping your collarbones as he thrusts, everything you’re doing to each other is incomparable to any other experience you’ve had with another person.

That statement is verified once again when you screw your eyes shut and see stars. Armin’s hit that sweet spot inside of you and you moan even louder, trumping the sound of abused bedsprings. One hand squeezes your hip tighter while the other disappears between your legs again to rub your clit. Everything feels too much and too good at the same time. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, coming off the bed and crying so loudly you might wake up your friends’ deep, alcohol-induced sleeps. You claw at Armin’s back while he thrusts harder and harder to find his own orgasm, which he does and buries himself completely inside you to release. Both of you will need a very long sleep and possibly some band-aids and makeup to recover from all of this. It’s all worth it, though. Armin above you, chest heaving and smiling tiredly, looks unsurprisingly gorgeous.

The dirty roughness all smooths down and softens once you two come down from your highs. Armin disposes his condom and cleans up any excess mess the two of you have made. He smiles again when he joins you on your side in bed, curling up underneath the sheets and taking your hands before he kisses you gently.

“This was perfect,” you tell him.

He agrees with another kiss. Nothing more needs to be said.

Miles and miles of traveling along with years and years of yearning have all lead up to this moment. Although you plan and will create more moments in shorter spans with Armin, closing this distance has never felt more satisfying and joyful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and road trips are always appreciated <3
> 
> [Tumblr](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


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